Breakfast at Blaine's
by lanesummerland
Summary: *Warning: May contain possible triggers!* Blaine felt helpless, sitting there, unable to comfort his boyfriend. Kurt shut his eyes and sucked in a breath; he let it out with a moan…and blood. A fountain of blood...
1. Powdered Sugar and Pain

_This is my first time writing fic, so if you could let me know what you think, or if you have any pointers, that'd be great!_

_Also, this story deals with cancer. If that's a trigger for you, you may not want to read it._

**Breakfast at Blaine's**

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><p><strong>Chapter One:<strong>

"…And Brittany just kept going on and on about her cat. I'm quite positive that I lost at least half of my brain cells just from listening to her story. It was-Kurt, are you even hearing me? KURT!"

Blaine's powerful voice shook Kurt from his thoughtful trance. He'd been imagining how that night would go, envisioning every little detail. Tonight was when Kurt planned to ask Blaine to their Senior prom. Of course, he shouldn't be nervous, seeing as though Blaine went with him last year, and Kurt was sure he would attend it again with him this year, but he wanted to make it special. He didn't want the proposal to take place in a quaint coffee shop, as it had been previously done.

"Uh, yeah. I hear you, sweetheart," Kurt stuttered.

"Really? What did I just say?"

"Well, I believe it was something along the lines of 'KURT!'"

"Humph, very funny!" Blaine chuckled as he wrapped his tender arms around his boyfriend. He softly kissed the top of Kurt's head and slyly intertwined their hands. Kurt lowered his eyes and rubbed Blaine's rough palm with his always-smooth thumb. He drew in the faint scent of Blaine's cologne, then sighed deeply.

"What are you thinking about?" Blaine asked with worried eyes.

"Just about how much I love you."

Kurt knew that response was overrated, but he was praying it was good enough to conceal what his mind was truly pondering.

"And I love you!" Blaine assured whilst sitting up from the bed.

It was 10:00 AM on a Saturday morning, and Kurt had stayed the night at Blaine's house; his parents were away for the weekend on account of some business trip. They had woken up at 8:00, but chose to stay in bed and simply talk for a bit…even though Blaine had done most of the talking. Now, Blaine was getting restless and decided to head to the kitchen and make some breakfast for the two of them. Just as he stood up, Kurt grabbed him by the band of his gray boxers and quickly pulled him back.

"Kuuuuuuuurt!" Blaine whined as he tumbled onto the delicate down comforter.

"Oh, shut-up and kiss me," Kurt demanded, cupping Blaine's face in his hands.

"B-but my breath, it's rancid!" he replied, attempting to squirm free.

"Blaine Anderson, I have been sitting here, listening to you run your beautiful mouth for the past two hours. I think if your breath was honestly that horrendous, I would be dead by now," Kurt chuckled, "besides, I'm sure mine doesn't exactly smell like roses, either!" Blaine tried to stifle his laughter, but failed and finally lowered his face to Kurt's, gently kissing him.

"My, how you've changed! Not worrying about your morning breath. It seems I've created a monster!" Blaine said as he playfully bit Kurt's bottom lip, reluctantly pulling himself to his feet.

"What would you like for breakfast, sir?" Blaine asked.

"Surprise me!"

"Bold choice! You should prepare yourself," And with that, Kurt waved him out of the door with a wink.

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><p>As the steam from his shower enveloped him, Kurt could smell the French toast that was cooking downstairs. For a moment, he pictured Blaine in a silly apron with powdered sugar covering his flawless face. <em>No French toast is complete without powdered sugar, <em>he thought, laughing at himself.

Kurt finished showering and soon heard Blaine call to him-and in the midst of his daily moisturizing routine! …Moisturizing his face, that is.

"My darling, your breakfast awaits!"

"Hold on, I'm almost done!" Kurt shouted, shaking his head at Blaine's blatant sarcasm.

"It's getting cold. Don't make me come up there and get you!"

Kurt remained silent in the hopes that Blaine actually would come and get him.

Suddenly, he heard footsteps heavily trotting up the stairs; he turned himself towards the door.

"If you do not get your skinny little ass down here right now!" Blaine threatened as he pushed Kurt into a corner. Kurt fought back the smile that was working its way to his lips.

"Why, thank you! But I much prefer 'my darling' as the term of endearment here."

And before he knew it, Blaine was trying to throw him over his shoulder, but this proved to be a bit difficult because Kurt was quiet a few inches taller than Blaine.

"I thought you said my ass was skinny?" Kurt joked.

"Ugh, maybe you shouldn't eat that French toast I made you…" Blaine huffed, ultimately giving up, but not before receiving a few light-hearted smacks to the chest.

"Honestly, though. Let's go!" he urged.

Blaine grasped his boyfriend's hand and drug him down into the kitchen, where the intoxicating smell of warm maple syrup lingered at their noses. They took a seat at the dinner table, and Kurt marveled at the plate before him. There was French toast, of course, but with strawberries and…powdered sugar on top! He smirked. Next to that, was a cup of coffee and a glass of milk.

"Wow, you've really outdone yourself," Kurt whispered.

"Haha, I'm glad you like it!"

"Well, now…I haven't tasted it yet."

He lifted his fork and stabbed a fluffy piece of toast, as well as a strawberry, and brought it to his mouth; Blaine followed his every move.

"Mmmm, this…this is d-delicious," Kurt moaned, trying not to let any crumbs escape as he spoke. Blaine beamed and kissed him on the cheek, as giddy as can be. They continued to enjoy their meal when Kurt stopped Blaine mid-chew;

"You've got a little something riiiiiight…there," he said, pointing to a spot on Blaine's face.

Blaine gulped down his bite;

"Where?"

He crossed his eyes, in an attempt to see what Kurt did.

"There!" Kurt said as he took some powdered sugar and flung it at Blaine; he looked stunned and then let out a small snort.

"If only you had on an apron. Then, things would be perfect." Kurt thought aloud.

"What?" Blaine questioned.

"Nothing, don't worry about it" Kurt replied, wiping the sugar off Blaine's flushed cheeks. "It's just a little fantasy of mine," he added under his breath, so Blaine couldn't hear. He kissed away the last of the substance from the boy's lips.

"Sweet, aren't I?" Blaine asked with a raised brow.

"Very much so," Kurt replied, smoothing Blaine's wrinkled forehead, "and horribly cliché!"

"But you love it!"

"Yes, yes I do. I will love it forever and always."

"Ha! Now who's cliché?" Blaine mocked.

Kurt shoved him away with a "pfffft" and went to put their dishes into the sink. Blaine walked up behind him, grabbed his waist, and plopped his forehead in between Kurt's shoulder blades.

"You don't have to wash those," he said.

"I want to. You cooked, I'll clean."

Blaine stepped next to him and grabbed the sink's sprayer.

"I said, you don't have to wash them."

Kurt was still focusing on wiping his dish when he replied;

"Honey, it's no big deal. I mean, it's just t-," he was cut off mid-sentence by the abrupt splash of water that struck his eyes.

"Payback's a bitch," Blaine giggled as he grabbed a rag to dry Kurt's face.

"Amm you're ummm jerrr!" he murmured.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" Blaine asked, lifting the rag so he could hear.

"I said that you're a jerk! You know, I don't approve of this abusive relationship!"

"Abusive….really? Well, we'll see if you get any more breakfasts from me!" he stated, twisting the cloth and then slapping Kurt's bum with it as he turned away.

"You see what I mean?" Kurt said in the midst of laughter.

Blaine went to put the dishes away when he heard the slightest quiver taint Kurt's voice; then, all was silent, but for the clinking of the glass. He glanced over his shoulder to see Kurt clutching his stomach, his face a ghostly pale, paler than usual.

"Hey, baby, are you okay?" Blaine said, letting go of the plate. He wasn't paying attention to where he was sitting it and it slipped out of the cabinet and crashed loudly onto the linoleum floor. Kurt jerked; Blaine could see that he was now sweating and his lips were outlined in purple. He ran to Kurt as he slowly slid down the wall.

"Talk to me! What's wrong?" Blaine couldn't disguise the terror in his words.

"I-Blaine. I-my s-s-stomach. God, m-make it stop," he stammered, tears welling, threatening to slither over the edge.

Blaine's adrenaline was pumping. He could think of nothing except Kurt, and how to make his pain go away. He took in a gulp of air and slowly lifted Kurt's frail body, carrying him over to the couch in the living room. He laid him down as gently as possible, but Kurt still winced. The small sound made Blaine's skin crawl. He pulled himself away long enough to fetch a warm towel and place it on Kurt's forehead. He then kneeled beside him and clutched his clammy hand.

"Kurt, you have to tell me what to do," Blaine begged, "tell me how to make it better." Tears began to fall from his own eyes, but he wiped them away quickly, not wanting Kurt to see. He felt helpless, sitting there, unable to comfort his boyfriend. Kurt shut his eyes and sucked in a breath; he let it out with a moan…and blood. A fountain of blood.


	2. Heartbreak to Come

_Chapter Three, coming soon!_

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><p><strong>Chapter Two:<strong>

"Holy shi-," Blaine yanked Kurt into a sitting position and managed to choke back the bile that was threatening to crawl up his own throat. He lunged for the phone that was sitting on the coffee table, just next to the couch. He couldn't grasp it right away; it was like the device was taunting him. His hands, they were covered with blood and didn't feel like they belonged to the chaos that made up his body. He looked down at his shirt, also covered in red. He stopped, feeling as though the earth was spinning too fast and that he would be ruthlessly thrown from it at any second. He heard Kurt cough; blood was still seeping from his mouth; Blaine forced himself to shakily dial 911.

"911, what's your emergency?"

He couldn't speak.

"911, what is your emergency?"

The frustration in the man's voice brought Blaine to.

"Yes. My-my boyfriend. He's vomiting blood. It's everywhere. I can't. I need help," he managed to spit the words out.

"Alright. Take a breath, sir. Do you know what may have caused it?" Blaine rubbed his temples and glanced at Kurt. He had laid back down and was beginning to shiver.

"No. I don't fucking know! That's why I called you! I need help!" Blaine shouted, his voice breaking.

"You need to calm down, sir. Tell me where you live."

It took him what seemed like an eternity to relay all of the information that the 911 dispatcher needed. His eyes kept going back to Kurt, who just kept lying there. He comprehended nothing that came from the other end of the phone, apart from the fact that the ambulance was on its way. Blaine leaned over Kurt and wiped the dried blood from his quivering chin. As he brought the warm cloth to Kurt's face, the boy spoke;

"Blaine, I-I don't-I'm sorry," he breathed.

"Shh, don't try to talk, love. It's okay. It's all going to be okay," Blaine replied as a tear drop tumbled from the tip of his nose and landed on the corner of Kurt's mouth; Kurt opened his eyes.

"Please, don't cry," he said, bringing his hand up to rub Blaine's pain away, but he quickly recoiled and grabbed his stomach again; another wave of blood flowed from his body.

Blaine stepped back, filled to the brim with horror. Just as he did, the doorbell rang. He yelled for the paramedics to come in and they took over; poking and prodding at Kurt, shouting at each other. Blaine thought they were being too rough. _Kurt's so fragile. Be careful. Don't hurt him. Stop. You're making it worse. _He stood there. Unable to move. Unable to respire.

A sweet, sympathetic voice suddenly awoke him from his stupor.

"Sir, do you wanted to ride in the ambulance? We need to leave now," she said as she laid a hand on his shoulder.

"No. No, I'll drive."

"Are you sure you can do that?" she questioned, noticing his hands, overcome by violent tremors.

"Yes. I'm fine, thank you."

The woman nodded and pushed Kurt's stretcher out of the house. Blaine followed and watched as they lifted him into the back of the loud vehicle.

As they were closing the doors, Blaine managed to call out "I love you!" and remained , powerless, at the edge of the driveway as the ambulance sped off.

He dragged himself back into the living room and traced the crimson footprints of the frantic paramedics. He closed his eyes. Blood. That was all he could see, even in the darkness. He ran to the bathroom and collapsed in front of the toilet. Clutching the edge of the seat, he cried. Cried until he retched.

A few grueling minutes later, he finally withdrew from the icy porcelain and cleaned the last of the vomit off of his cracking lips. Before leaving the putrid bathroom, Blaine spent a moment at the mirror and was repulsed by the sight of his own pathetic reflection. Without thinking, he picked up the heavy soap dispenser and threw it at the glass, studying his image as it shattered into hundreds of jagged pieces.

Blaine walked over the mess with a loud crunch and called his parents. He told them every sickening detail; told them that he was about to drive to the hospital and assured them that they could stay where they were. He hung up and knew that he immediately had to call Kurt's parents; nausea hit him all over again. He slowly dialed the number and after two rings, Burt answered the phone;

"Hello?"

"Hi, Mr. Hummel. It's Blaine. Kurt…Kurt is in the hospital." There was a long pause; Blaine swallowed hard.

"Jesus, boy! What did you do? Did you hurt my kid, dammit?"

"No! Of course I didn't hurt him, sir! He's sick." He heard Burt sigh and hoped that he didn't have to explain and relive the events all over again.

"Oh, God. Carole and I are on our way!"

The call ended.

Blaine still felt as if the world was trying to knock him off of his feet; that with just one more push, he would plummet over the edge.

He ran to his car and drove as fast as he could to the hospital. His surroundings flew by in a blur. He flicked on his emergency lights and paid no attention to road signs or anything of that matter. _Don't leave me, Kurt. You can't. Please, be okay. _That was the only thing that ran through his mind during the 30 minute drive. He screeched to a halt in the parking lot and burst beyond the ominous ER doors, where he was greeted by an abundance of confused stares.

"I'm looking for Kurt Hummel," Blaine huffed at the receptionist.

"He's still being seen by the doctors, sir, but you may wait right over there if you'd like," she said, pointing to an area filled with groups of monotonous chairs.

He stood there for a moment, to catch his breath, and then went to take his seat. It was firm and uncomfortable; nothing more than what he'd expected. The waiting room was eerily quiet, but he knew that's how it would be. Everyone's filled with hope, until a doctor delivers the heartbreak in a way that's compassionate; yet, somehow still cold.

Blaine heard the troubling ticks of a clock on the wall. He counted them until Kurt's parents rushed in, wide-eyed and flustered. They were directed to where Blaine was seated.

He cleared his throat;

"Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Hummel."

"Hi, Blaine. How are you?" Carole asked, looking at his shirt. He suddenly realized that he'd forgotten to change out of his blood-stained clothes. He now understood the fear that had quickly flickered across the receptionist's face.

"Oh, uh, I'm fine, thanks."

"Dear, what exactly happened? Can you tell us?"

"I don't know. He just…I-" Blaine was interrupted by the doctor. He was a bit relieved because he was trying to repress the nightmarish memory as much as possible.

"Hi. I'm Dr. Howell. Are you Kurt's parents?" he asked. They stood up and grabbed each other's arms; Blaine rose as well.

"Yes," they replied.

"Will you all follow me, please?"

The doctor led them into Kurt's sterile hospital room. Blaine shivered as he saw Kurt, engulfed by the white sheets. The harsh lights were making him look almost angelic, like he was softly glowing._ What a beautiful boy, _he thought. Blaine barely noticed when Dr. Howell began to speak. All of his attention was focused on the steady beats of Kurt's heart. Unbeknownst to Blaine, his own heart was about to break…with the compassionately cold delivery of the news.

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><p><em>Sorry, just had to leave you guys on a cliffhanger for a tad bit longer, haha. ;)<em>


	3. Freight Train of Disaster

_Here it is! Chapter 3! _

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><p><strong>Chapter Three:<strong>

Blaine clenched the doorframe, determined for splinters to eat away at his hand, and he bit down on his tongue with such force, that there was now a pool of blood draining into his esophagus.

But he didn't notice the metallic flavor. All he knew was that he desperately desired to rip everything in his line of vision apart, including the callous Dr. Howell.

"I'm sorry to inform you that your son has stomach cancer," he said.

"Stage IV."

"It is very rare to see a case so advanced in such a young male."

"If it had been discovered earlier, we could have done more for him."

"But a cure is not likely at this stage."

"**A cure is not likely at this stage," **fell like ice from the doctor's lips and broke the silence with the most earsplitting crash ever conceived.

Burt and Carole tried to suppress their hysterics, so as to not wake Kurt up, but Blaine bolted out of the room, with Dr. Howell not too far behind.

"Sir! Please, stop!" But Blaine couldn't. He couldn't face this freight train of disaster that was barreling towards him, destroying all that he loved.

"Someone, stop him!" And at that, a mountain of a security guard placed himself in Blaine's path. He had to give up, then. Blaine stood still, but did not turn to face the doctor as he spoke;

"I'm sorry, son. I know this must be hard for you."

"I am not your fucking _son_. You do not know me and you do not have the slightest idea about how I fucking feel," Blaine spat, "so, I suggest that you leave me the hell alone because I don't need your sympathy."

Dr. Howell opened his mouth, but was interrupted;

"But let me tell you this; that boy in there, he is the my everything. He has taught me so much more than he knows and I'm…" Blaine fought back the tears, "I'm losing him. I am losing the one person who can pull me out of the darkest abyss, make me laugh until it aches, kiss me even though my breath smells like shit, and love me despite my countless faults. Do you know how that feels, _sir_?

He shook his head;

"No. Now, go ruin someone else's life, you bastard."

The burly guard raised his eyebrows in surprise and stepped aside in order to let Blaine slowly walk out of the hospital and into the still parking lot.

When he reached his car, he tugged open the door and slid in, letting his head fall heavily onto the steering wheel. He wept until his temples pounded in protest and then gripped the wheel and viciously thrust himself into the back of his seat, causing the entirety of the vehicle to shake. He noticed the curious glimpses that the passers-by gave him and all he wanted to do was hide from them, hide from everyone.

Blaine simultaneously dragged his sleeve across his wet nose and twisted the key in the ignition. The frosty air blasted out of the vents and happily greeted the warmth of his cheeks. He was just about to close his eyes, when his phone unexpectedly rang, sending a jolt of fear throughout his body. Blaine mumbled a curse word before finally taking the call;

"Hey, man. Uh, I just got home and no one's here. I tried calling my mom and Burt, but neither of them answered. Kurt's still with you, right?" Finn asked.

Blaine's hand tensed around the phone.

"You there?"

The question echoed in Blaine's ear, and he thought about hanging up, but decided against it, nonetheless.

"He's not with me, he's in the hospital. Come if you want. I'm leaving."

Before Finn could make an attempt at carrying on the conversation, Blaine hit the "end" button.

The drive home was long and void of all noise, except for the dull rumble of the engine. He played no music; didn't sing to himself like he usually would, he just looked straight ahead, his thoughts far more chaotic than the evening traffic.

As the sun began to set, it sent streaks of light across the windshield and into his hazel eyes; he squinted in return. Blaine wondered how many more times Kurt would get to see the bright oranges and yellows fall across the tips of the trees. He wondered how many more times he'd get to wake up next to Kurt and watch as the morning cast a subtle shimmer over his delicate cheek bones; those cheek bones that Blaine gently kissed, persuading him from his slumber. And he wondered how many more times he'd get to drift into his own slumber, lulled by the comforting thumps of Kurt's core.

Blaine came to his driveway and hastily wiped away the sheen from his lashes before walking inside. He'd expected to see blood still clinging to the floor and furniture, but instead, it had all been covered with towels and sheets. He cautiously ventured deeper into the house, only to discover his parents sitting in the kitchen.

"Oh, honey," his mom gasped, taken aback by the gruesome condition of his clothes. Blaine shrugged his shoulders in reply and continued to carry his numb body up the flight of stairs.

"Son, wait! We want to talk to you!" his father called. A chill crept up his spine as he remembered Dr. Howell referring to him in just that way. His mouth was like lead and he couldn't seem to find the strength to open it, so he sauntered into his room and shut the door with enough volume, so his parents would know he didn't feel like conversing.

Blaine immediately darted for the bathroom, leaving a trail of clothing behind, and turned on the shower. He stepped in, even though it was scolding, and let the pellets of water melt away the layer of burgundy that covered him. He scrubbed his body until it felt raw, but no matter how hard he scrubbed, he could still feel the dried blood cracking in the creases of his skin.

After standing under the foggy stream for 30 minutes, Blaine finally willed himself to turn it off. He reached a hand out into the frigid air and blindly searched for a towel; a towel that should have been hanging on the rack, but it was crumpled up on the slippery floor. He threw open the curtain and sharply took in a breath as the breeze cloaked him.

"God damn it, Kurt!" he shrieked, "I told you to always replace the towels!" Blaine plucked the used one from the floor and twisted it around his waist as he made his way to the sink.

Of course, more of Kurt's clutter awaited him there; moisturizers, facial cleansers, tweezers, and various other beauty products. A low grumble rose from his chest and he shoved everything into the garbage can that was conveniently placed to the right of the sink. He then met his reflection and was tempted to shatter that glass as well. The eyes that were staring back at him…were not his own. They were bursting with hatred and rage. Could he actually hate Kurt for making him feel this way?

Blaine ran his hands over his wet hair, grabbed clumps of it and pulled at his scalp; he was disgusted with himself. He collapsed onto the floor and buried his face in his knees, his heart stuttering as he tried to catch his breath.

Searching for a way to calm down, he began to trace the grooves in the tile. He pictured Kurt, pictured running his lips along the outline of Kurt's jaw, slowly making his way to the boy's mouth and lingering there for a brief moment before closing the small gap between them.

"No," he said, in response to his previous question.

Blaine thought he was imagining the faint sound of the ringtone he'd picked to be Kurt's, but it was there, just outside the door. He pushed himself up and sprinted to his phone;

"Hello?" he answered.

"Sweetheart, where are you? I'm sorry. This…this is not how things were supposed to go!" Kurt blurted. Blaine shook his head and managed to let out a minute chuckle.

"I'm the one who should be apologizing. I'm sorry. I went home to take a shower."

"A shower? God, what I would give for one of those! But hey, you're more than welcome to come give me a sponge bath."

Blaine could hear the smile in Kurt's voice. He must have been unaware of what was really going on.

" Yeah? Are you a dirty boy?"

"Oh, my lord. Blaine. Stop talking. I mean, Could you get at cheesier?"

"What? I thought it was pretty hilarious!"

"Of course you did, dear," Kurt said, "and I know it's kind of late, but I hope you're coming back here to see me. Maybe even stay? I also have this light above my bed, I can dim it, totally set the mood. This picture of a tiger on the wall does wonders for that, too!"

Blaine could feel the lump rising in his throat, but he forced it back down;

"Don't worry, I'm headed that way in a few."

"You can head down south when you arrive, if you know what I mean."

"And you told _me _to stop talking! Kurt, baby, I think you need to lay off the drugs a little bit."

"Why, do you want me to save you some?"

"Haha. No, thank you. I'm hanging up now! I love you. So much."

"I love you, too. More than you could possibly fathom," Kurt whispered.

He couldn't help it, as soon as he hung up, Blaine succumbed to the stinging in his eyes and let the tears trickle down once more.


	4. Dreadful Dreams

_Sorry this chapter took so long! __I was having a terrible case of writer's block...which is probably evident in this, haha._

_But I hope you enjoy, and let me know how you're liking the story so far! _

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><p><strong>Chapter Four:<strong>

He had been contemplating on whether or not to enter Kurt's quiet room for the past 10 minutes. Blaine rocked back and forth on his heels, picking at the blossoming bouquet he help ever so tightly between his whitening fingers. _What are you so afraid of? Just go in, _he thought. Slowly, he began to push open the reluctant door. It moved with a squeak and Blaine's jaw tensed as he peeked his head inside. He saw Burt sitting in the corner, a finger over his lips, and then he noticed the muffled sound of Kurt's snoring. Blaine gave an understanding nod and softly crept over to Kurt's exhausted father.

"He fell asleep just before you got here," Burt said, and Blaine silently cursed himself for not walking in sooner;

"It's okay, Mr. Hummel. If you'd like, you can go home now. I'll stay with Kurt," he offered.

Burt lifted his baseball cap and scratched at his balding dome;

"Mmm, yeah…alright, kid," the man said, "just make sure you keep an eye on 'em." And he flashed Blaine a stern glance.

"Yes, sir. I will. I promise."

With a loud crack, Burt stood and gave Blaine a grateful pat on his shoulder;

"Thanks," he said before trudging out of the room.

Blaine placed the colorful flowers on the table next to Kurt's bed and quietly pulled up a chair. He stared at his boyfriend, watching the elusive movement of his eyes dance behind their lids.

Blaine caught sight of a bead of sweat as it glinted upon Kurt's forehead. _That's odd, _he thought as the droplet slithered into Kurt's brow and disappeared.

Kurt's lips began to curve at the ends, revealing a trembling frown. He let out a small whimper and Blaine reached for his drenched hand, gently caressing it.

"I'm right here, baby. I'm right here," Blaine breathed, planting a subtle kiss on the boy's palm. Kurt dug his short nails into Blaine's wrist and shot up, his face filled with panic;

"B-Blaine! The blood, Blaine! Make it stop!" he begged as he grabbed at the wires protruding from his arm.

"You're okay, Kurt! Everything's okay. Look at me!" Blaine stood up and cupped Kurt's chin in his hand, forcing Kurt to focus on his eyes;

"Do you see me? Just take a breath. You're fine," he said as he brushed back Kurt's damp hair.

Kurt's chest rose and fell with each jagged intake of air and Blaine kept their gaze locked, waiting for Kurt to regain his composure.

"There you go, sweetheart. Tell me what happened. What did you dream?"

Before he could answer, Kurt let himself fall onto Blaine, and he embraced him.

"Oh, no. I g-got my slobber on your s-shirt," Kurt stuttered, his hot gasps grazing Blaine's neck, sending shivers up his spine. Blaine chuckled and kissed the tip of Kurt's flushed ear.

"No worries. That's my job, to be your personal tissue," he joked as an attempt to lighten up the mood. He felt Kurt wriggle with laughter and relished in that small moment. Blaine didn't know how many more moments they would have, so he wasn't taking anything for granted.

"I'm sorry. I don't know what…there was just so much blood. So much," Kurt said, leaning back against his lumpy pillow.

"I know, honey. Was that your dream?"

"Yeah. I couldn't stop getting sick, and I-I could feel all of the pain, and you weren't there…and."

Blaine moved to the edge of the bed and took Kurt's shaky hands;

"I will always be here. Do you understand? Always."

A weak smile made its way to Kurt's lips and Blaine leaned in to kiss them once more. Kurt tangled his fingers in Blaine's curly, unkempt hair and uttered a husky "I love you" before letting him go.

"I love you, too," Blaine replied as he returned to his rigid chair. He felt his eyes getting ridiculously heavy and looked at the aged clock that was barely hanging on to the wall. 12:00 AM is what it read. Midnight.

"Blaine, why don't you get some sleep? I'm fine," Kurt promised.

"No, not until you go to sleep first."

Kurt sighed at Blaine's defiance, but didn't bother to start an argument with him. That's the last thing he wanted to do right now.

As the minutes gradually ticked by, Kurt watched Blaine as he fought to stay awake, his head bobbing from being lured in and out of consciousness. The boy yearned to feel Blaine's body next to him, to feel the soothing heat of another human.

He glanced at his arm again and was reminded of the wires that kept him imprisoned. Kurt desperately wanted to yank them out and run to Blaine, who was now asleep, his mouth agape. Kurt's heart fluttered at the sight of his boyfriend's innocence, and he couldn't stop himself from speaking;

"Hey, sweetheart?" he cooed, feeling and inkling of guilt as Blaine's dark-circled eyes fluttered open.

Blaine coughed out a drowsy "yeah?" and casually wiped at the drool that had collected along his jaw line.

"Will…will you come lay with me?"

Kurt felt a pang of stupidity as he heard the words roll off of his tongue.

"Yyyeaaah. Of course," Blaine replied, suppressing a yawn. He willed himself out of the chair and sluggishly made his way over to Kurt. Blaine hesitated before lying down, suddenly aware of the liquid-filled tubes that surrounded the sickly boy.

"Don't worry about those. Just lay here and you'll be fine," Kurt said, patting the left side of his unyielding bed. Blaine nodded and carefully slipped next to Kurt, making sure to lie on his back.

Kurt turned and nestled his head into the groove of Blaine's neck, letting out a satisfied sigh;

"Thank you," he whispered, his breath tickling Blaine's skin.

"You're more than welcome, my dear," Blaine replied, the last of his sentence turning into a mumble as he quickly drifted back to his dreams.

Kurt was thankful to feel the comforting warmth of Blaine next to him, and he hoped that it was enough to keep away the macabre nightmares that lurked in every corner of his restless mind.

Pacified by the rhythmic breaths of Blaine's slumber, Kurt's eyelids began to surrender to the darkness as well. He allowed them to close and prayed for pleasant visions.

But of course, he would have no such thing.


	5. Need to Be Strong

_Grrrr, this chapter took a while to get done, too, huh? My apologies from here on out, haha. _

_It also appears that I have a fondness for making Kurt and Blaine take showers...XD _

_Ooooh, well!_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Five: <strong>

"Kurt! Kurt, wake up!"

Blaine's fervent tone tore Kurt from his sleepy fog. His eyes snapped open and they were slow to focus. He could see that a fuzzy Blaine was leaning over him, his face alarmed and his strong hands glued to Kurt's shoulders. Kurt blinked rapidly and noticed as perspiration glided onto his lashes, the salty water blurring his sight even more. He tried to move, confused about where he was, but Blaine held him down. As Kurt squirmed, he realized that his entire body was drenched in sweat. He felt repulsive and his head was spinning. All he wanted to do was get up and take a shower, not understanding why Blaine wouldn't release him.

"Let me go," he groaned, but Blaine held steady.

"I said, let me go!" Kurt grabbed at Blaine's hands and pulled them off. He quickly sat up and moved to the edge of the bed, and Blaine saw as his boyfriend's face turned a ghastly shade of green and reached out for him just as he fell forward.

"Hey, you alright?" he asked. Kurt remained silent as he leaned into Blaine's chest, hearing the rapid thuds of his anxious heart. Kurt felt his stomach contract and he immediately recoiled from Blaine's grasp.

"Ugh, God. No," Kurt choked as an all too familiar river of regurgitation poured from his mouth. Blaine stepped back and fumbled for the emergency call button. His trembling fingers found it and pressed down until the staff rushed in. He then faded into the background and watched the sickening scene play out before him.

Blaine felt as if he were in his living room again. Alone and helpless. His breath caught in his throat and it burned like fire. He turned and walked to the door, bracing himself against its wooden frame. The sound of Kurt's heaving resounded in his ears and he found himself clutching his own stomach. He stumbled out into the hall…only to see Burt, Carole, Finn and the rest of the Glee club headed his way.

"Man, what's up? You look like you're gonna hurl," Finn said. Blaine pushed him aside and slipped through the small crowd of people. He shuffled into the waiting room and sat down in the first empty chair he saw. He brought his weak knees to his chest and buried his face in them. A moment later, Blaine heard someone take a seat beside him, the air _whooshing_ from the cushion.

"Hi, Blaine," Mercedes said, placing a gentle hand upon his back.

"Hello," he hummed as he lifted his eyes to look at her, her face bursting with kindness and concern.

"Kurt never stops talking about you, you know?"

"Oh, yeah?" Blaine asked, suddenly worried about all Kurt's blabbing.

"Yup. He really loves you," she replied.

"Well, I really love him, too."

"I know," she said, scooting closer to Blaine. "He's going to make it through this, you'll see."

It was hard to find comfort in her words as he replayed the doctor's speech in his mind; _stage IV…cure not likely._

"Mercedes, he has stomach cancer. It's so advanced, that there's a slim chance he'll pull through," Blaine stated with a quiver.

"He's stronger than you think," she reassured, standing up to go rejoin the group of family and friends that still waited in front of Kurt's door.

Blaine stood as well, letting out a sigh. He shoved his numb hands into his pockets and sauntered alongside Mercedes.

The doctors had left the room and Burt and Carole were the only ones surrounding Kurt. Finn and the other Glee club members remained outside, wearing hesitant expressions. Blaine ghosted past them and over to the boy, whose white hospital gown was now splattered with splotches of red.

"Dad, would you go tell everyone that I'm fine, and I love them, but they'll have to come back later?" Kurt squeaked, staring at the floor.

"Sure, kiddo," Burt replied as he smoothed his son's hair.

Carole stood, gripping the foot of Kurt's bed,;

"Is there anything we can do for you?" she asked, voice thick with worry. Kurt merely shook his head, making sure not to meet anyone's eyes.

Blaine kneeled, so he could find Kurt's solemn face, and he brought his thumb up to swipe away a tear as it danced down Kurt's cheek.

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart," he said. "I didn't mean to walk out. The doctors just bombarded you and…and I didn't know…" Kurt waved a hand at Blaine's words and he stopped talking.

"I understand," Kurt replied, still refusing to look at anything, apart from the floor.

"I know you're angry…"

"Blaine, I said I understand, okay?"

"O-okay."

Blaine went to kiss Kurt's chapped lips, but the boy pulled away and turned to stare out of the open window. Light flooded into the room, highlighting Kurt's thinning features.

"Do you want me to help you get cleaned up?" Blaine asked, ignoring the tiny noise that escaped Carole's throat. Although she was very accepting of Kurt and Blaine's relationship, some things still managed to catch her off guard.

"No, I've got it."

"Let me help you, Kurt," Blaine huffed "You can't get your left arm wet anyway, because of the IV."

"I'm perfectly capable of showering myself, thank you," he retorted. Before Blaine could utter another syllable, Kurt got up and walked to the bathroom as speedily as possible, slamming the door in his company's face.

Carole finally released the grip she had on the footboard of the bed and turned to face Blaine, who had slumped down onto the floor, his back against the door Kurt had just entered.

"He'll come around, sweetie," Carole comforted him.

"Has-has the doctor told him everything? About his cancer?" Blaine questioned as he tousled his dark locks.

"Yes."

"Well, that certainly explains the sudden change in mood."

Blaine then heard the water from the shower sputter on; Kurt must have been listening to his conversation with Carole. He bit his lip and leaned his head back with a _thud_.

* * *

><p>Kurt's skin prickled, welcoming the cold fall of the liquid. <em>What am I going to do? I-I just turned 18. I haven't lived yet, <em>he thought as he ran his free hand through his matted hair and licked at the drops that grazed the crease of his lips.

This couldn't be happening. Not now. Not with everything finally going right. Blaine was attending McKinley, Karofsky had come out and was no longer haunting Kurt's memories, and Kurt was in love with the most marvelous man.

He didn't know how long he'd been standing under the steady stream, but an abrupt knock at the door ripped Kurt from the numbness that had overwhelmed him,

"You okay? Kurt, it's been 30 minutes!" Blaine shouted.

"Yes, I'm fine," he replied, rolling his eyes. He heard the door handle jiggle under the weight of Blaine's eager hand and reached to turn off the now sweltering water.

"I'm fine, Blaine!"

Kurt wrapped a towel around his waist and swiftly flicked the lock, waiting for what was sure to come in a matter of seconds.

The door swung open and he greeted Blaine with a look of disdain.

"Yes?" Kurt snapped, and Blaine visibly shrunk away from the fire in his voice.

"Baby, I'm so s-" Kurt cut him off.

"Don't. Don't fucking say it," Kurt spat. "And don't look at me like that…like I'm-"

"Dying?" Blaine finished, his eyes glistening.

"S-shit."

"I know," Blaine soothed as he drew Kurt into his chest. "But you can get the treatments and you can put up one hell of a fight. You're so strong, love . You can beat this."

Kurt slithered out of Blaine's embrace and ferociously wiped at the tears that stained his face.

"I don't want the treatments," he muttered, turning his back to Blaine in order to avoid his brokenhearted glare.

"W-what?" Blaine's head was reeling and an intense wave of nauseous hit him at an unrelenting rate.

"You heard me," Kurt said, swallowing hard.

"You're kidding, right? I mean, you can't be serious?," Blaine replied as he walked up behind Kurt and grabbed his collarbone, twisting him around.

"Ow!" the boy shrieked.

"What about us, Kurt? What about your family? And your friends?"

"For Christ's sake! What about me? Did you ever stop and think about that? I don't want to become some fucking vegetable that you and everyone else must look after!"

Blaine inched closer to Kurt, and Kurt could feel Blaine's humid breath sprinkle across his face as he spoke;

"You are not going to become a vegetable."

"Maybe not, but I _will _always be tired and feel like shit. I don't want to spend what little time I have left like that!" Kurt argued. "I want to be able to enjoy my Senior pro-"

Blaine caught Kurt's wrist as he tried to reach for his briefs;

"Prom?" he breathed.

Kurt gulped and gave a sheepish nod, beads of water dripping from the wet mop atop his head.

"This…is about prom?" Blaine boomed, the veins in his neck pulsating.

"Honey, my wrist…you're-you're hurting me!" Kurt pried at Blaine's fingers, but they just kept digging into his porcelain skin.

Blaine forced his boyfriend up against the condensation-covered wall;

"You are giving up your whole damn life for a fucking high-school dance?" he scorned.

"Th-that's not the only reason!" Kurt said, suppressing a sob.

"Bullshit!"

"God dammit, Blaine! I want to make love to you! Do you hear me? I want to make love to you," Kurt confessed, his body feeling like it was going to spontaneously combust. "And I need to be strong enough to do that."

Blaine's features softened and he gradually loosened the hold he had on Kurt.

"If you don't start the treatments immediately, we may not even get the chance," Blaine whispered from under his long lashes. "I'm begging you, Kurt."

But before Kurt could answer, they heard the door to his room creak open…


	6. Broken and Breaking Down

_Hey, guys! I know this chapter took over a month to get done, but I hope you can forgive me! There was a lot of stuff happening in my life, thus; making it a little difficult to find the time...and the willpower to write, but here it is, finally. Lol._

_ I hope you all are doing well. :)_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Six:<strong>

"Kids?"

The weary voice belonged to Burt; he and Carole had gone to get some lunch that wasn't like the bland slop served in the hospital's desolate cafeteria.

Blaine stumbled out of the bathroom and greeted Kurt's parents;

"Good afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Hummel."

"You've known me for long enough, son. Call me Burt," he said, peering around Blaine's shoulder. "Where's Kurt?"

"He's just getting out of the shower, sir," replied Blaine as he nervously shifted his weight. He saw something flicker in Burt's eyes, but the man quickly averted his gaze and went to take a seat near Kurt's bed.

"Are you hungry, honey? We brought back some food?" Carole asked, holding up the bag from McDonald's.

"No, ma'am. I'm fine. Thank you, though."

She gave a modest half-smile, then went to stand next to her husband. Burt looked up at her, pain seeping from his pores, and she leaned down to give him a comforting kiss on his cheek;

"Everything's going to be okay." Blaine overheard Carole say to him. His only response was a shake of the head.

"Well, I think I'll let you all have some time to yourselves," said Blaine. "Would you tell Kurt that I-tell him that I love him."

"Why don't you tell me yourself?"

Kurt was beside Blaine now, holding his hand.

"Please, don't leave," he whispered. "Stay with me."

"I love you," Blaine replied as he brushed his lips against Kurt's.

Burt gave a disrupting cough as Dr. Howell shuffled into the room. The man's head was down, examining Kurt's chart. He cleared his throat and shut the door behind him.

"It seems that you're doing much better than earlier," he said, passing glances between the two boys.

"All things considered, I'd say I am," Kurt answered as he and Blaine lowered themselves onto the edge of the bed. Kurt had only been there for one full day and was already tired of having to feel the scratchy sheets against his sensitive skin.

"So, would you like to hear your treatment options? That is, if you want any," Dr. Howell asked, still arctic.

Kurt looked at Blaine, whose eyes were pleading. What if he was right? What if, without the treatments, they never got the chance to experience the most beautiful thing a pair of souls in love could do?

Gingerly picking at the flake of skin that hung loose alongside his fingernail, Kurt opened his mouth to speak;

"Yes, please."

Blaine's pulse pounded.

"Well," began Dr. Howell, "the most common treatment is surgery, however; your case is so advanced, it would probably do no good. There is also Chemotherapy and Radiation therapy…which, unfortunately, may also do you no good."

The room was unnervingly silent, apart from the soft sound of air blowing through the vents.

"Do you understand what those are?" Howell questioned.

"I do," stated Kurt, still prying at the dangling piece of skin. "How long?"

"Pardon me?"

"How long do I have?"

Blaine could see the doctor's Adam's apple twitch in his throat;

"T-there's no way to be certain-"

"Don't fuck with me," Kurt spat. "How much time?"

"Maybe 6 months, at the most."

"And at the least?"

"4 months or so." Dr. Howell replied as he tugged on the tie that hung tight around his gleaming neck.

Burt shot up, the veins in his head visibly throbbing;

"Hold on. I don't want to hear anymore of your 'probably' or 'maybe' shit," he shouted. "I am paying you to know what is wrong with my son, and all you're giving me are these half-assed responses!" Burt rushed to the doctor, stopping inches away from the his face.

"Sweetheart, calm down," Carole soothed as she returned to his side, placing a palm on the small of his back.

"No! The bastard needs to help my son!"

Howell stepped back, wiping the saliva that clung to his chin.

"Dad, stop," Kurt called as he finally ripped the hangnail from his finger, causing a tiny pool of blood to form.

"Let me handle this!" Burt demanded, dismissing everyone's wishes with a wave of his hand.

"Listen, we don't want you getting too worked up. Please, take it easy," his wife begged.

Burt's jaw tensed, and his teeth made a shiver-inducing noise as they were ground together. He was nose- to- nose with the doctor, took in a shallow breath, and hissed;

"Get out."

Needless to say, Dr. Howell did as he was told.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Kurt's furious father fell to his knees. He tried desperately to stifle the sobs that clawed their way out of him, but he crumbled underneath the heartache.

For a moment, no one touched him, no one breathed; they just watched as his torrential tears dripped from their ducts and crashed onto the floor.

Kurt rubbed at the liquid luster that began to collect under his own eyes;

"Don't cry, daddy," he said, his voice laced with innocence.

Blaine had never heard Kurt sound so vulnerable, so child-like before, and it tore another hole in his tender chest. He felt uncomfortable, watching everyone fall apart; in fact, it almost made him want to lose it, himself.

"I-I think I should g-"

"No, don't. You're fine." Kurt interjected.

Burt spluttered as he brought a sleeve up to his wet nose;

"Yeah, you're okay, kid," he said, rising to his feet.

Carole wrapped him in her arms, and Kurt went to join the embrace.

"C'mere," Burt beckoned Blaine.

He was taken aback, and it was a minute before he actually registered that they all wanted him in on the hug; like Blaine was a member of their close-knit family.

Of course, Blaine loved his own family, but they weren't very supportive of his relationship with Kurt; and every time he thought about how they didn't approve of who he was, it cut him deeper.

Blaine forced the stinging memories from his mind and hurried next to his boyfriend, gripping him around the waist as he noticed his legs begin to tremble.

"I appreciate you being here for Kurt," Burt said in between exasperated gasps. "I know you really care about him."

"Yes, sir," Blaine assured.

"We all do," Carole added.

"Uh, guys? I can't b-breathe!" Kurt coughed as he tried to squirm free.

They laughed, immediately releasing each other-every eye red-rimmed and glistening.

"I'm still going to try the chemo and radiation. I mean, they can only help me at this point, right?"

Blaine gnawed at his lip, unsure if that was the truth, but he knew that Kurt was just trying to give himself a glimmer of hope.

"I think so, love," he said, lifting Kurt's hand to press a kind kiss to it.

Blaine then noticed the dried droplet of blood, and he swiftly erased the flaw from Kurt's otherwise impeccable surface;

"Do try to keep as much of that in you as possible."

Kurt winked and nestled next to his boyfriend; _I can do this. I can make it to prom._

And what Blaine told him was spot-on; Kurt was going to have to put up one hell of a fight.


	7. Falling Out

_So, if you've forgotten about this fic, I completely understand, haha. But for those of you who haven't, here's Chapter 7!_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Seven:<strong>

"I c-can't do this anymore," Kurt said in between fits of painful dry-heaving. Blaine was seated next to him on the bathroom floor, rubbing circles into his back. A month had passed since Kurt began treatments, and he was starting to feel the effects as they wreaked havoc upon his body.

"I know it's tough, but you're so strong," Blaine replied, brushing a lock of Kurt's hair from his sweat-speckled forehead, but as his finger grazed it, the piece simply fell out and floated onto the rug.

Kurt glowered at the light-brown clump, perhaps thinking that he was only seeing things, thinking that this really wasn't happening. A small whimper escaped from his mouth, and Blaine could practically hear the boy's heart stop beating.

"No big d-deal," Kurt stammered, trying to reassure himself more than he was Blaine. "It's just a little bit."

"Baby-" Blaine began.

"It's **just**…a little bit."

Kurt pushed himself up from in front of the toilet, which had recently been considered his new home; he would often fall asleep there, his stomach stirring with nausea.

"I think I'm going to go take a nap."

Blaine stood;

"Do you want me to help you to your bed?"

"No, I've got it." Kurt replied, the skin on his lips cracking from being incredibly parched. "Thank you, though."

_So stubborn_, Blaine thought as he watched Kurt walk, his shoulder braced against the wall.

* * *

><p>Kurt sank into his sheets; bones tired and aching. He wanted to close his eyes and just sleep; maybe for a few minutes, a few hours. Maybe forever. The feather pillow cradled his throbbing head, and his father's footsteps sounded far too loud as he stomped down the stairs;<p>

"You okay, kiddo?"

Kurt turned over on his back and stared at the bleak ceiling; _I wish everyone would stop asking me that._

"I'm fine."

"Well, Blaine told me you came in here. Do you need anything?" Burt asked.

"No, thanks," Kurt mumbled. "I'm gonna get some rest."

Burt hesitated; taking a long look at his ghost of a son, and he couldn't help but see Elizabeth, his late wife, lying there. Kurt favored her so much.

_Thank God, _Burt thought.

"I love you."

"I love you, too, dad."

* * *

><p>His dreams, once again, proved to be nothing but dark memories. Kurt thrashed, tangling himself in the soft linens. He was trapped, trapped by this cancer that had no intention of letting go. His chest rose and fell in ragged breaths, as he did everything to lift his heavy lids.<p>

Images swirled about in his mind, and he knew that panic was slowly rolling in. All he wanted to do was wake up. Why couldn't he wake up?

There was blood, of course. And darkness. He was alone; weak. Screams rose from his subconscious self's throat, but no one was around to hear them, no one was coming.

He begged for light, if only just a sliver. He prayed for someone to appear, if only they were simply a mere acquaintance. He couldn't bare the loneliness, steadily closing in around him.

But as his pulse slowed, about to give up, and his hope began to fade; he awoke.

Blaine's name was itching at the tip of his tongue, but Kurt held it back, blinking away the fuzziness that clouded his vision.

He sat up, stretching his stiff limbs, when he noticed something; something resting on his pillow, dark against the bright white of the comforter.

Blinking more, uncertain if he was truly awake, Kurt reached out to touch the unknown substance. It was soft; wispy. He held it in his hand, then watched as it drifted down with ease.

It smelled like him, like his lavender shampoo. And it was the color of-wait.

Why did it take him so long to realize that this wad of stuff…was his _hair._

His hair, covering the pillow; his hair, covering the sheets; hair from his scalp…covering his clothes.

"No, no, no!" Kurt said aloud, scrambling for the caramel-colored strands. "Not this."

His mouth quivered as he placed the fallen tufts back on top of his head. He knew that they wouldn't magically reattach, but he didn't want to believe it. He was desperate for a miracle.

"B-Blaine!"

Kurt was crying into the chunks of hair he'd been clutching when Blaine finally arrived.

"I'm here, sweetheart. I'm here," he cooed.

"My hair, Blaine. I-it's falling out."

Blaine pried the clumps from Kurt's fingers;

"I know."

"I don't want anyone to see me like this," Kurt said.

"But you've never looked more beautiful," replied Blaine, kissing a small, bald patch.

Kurt huffed;

"Please, no more lies."

"I'd never," Blaine stated.

"I can't go to school. Everyone will stare; ask questions."

"Don't they already stare at your crazy clothes?" Blaine laughed.

"It's not funny!" Kurt shrieked, wriggling free from Blaine's arms.

"I'm sorry. I was just try-"

"I understand," whispered Kurt. "It hurts, that's all."

Blaine stood, looking in the mirror that hung on the door;

"I'm going to shave my head."

Kurt coughed as he choked on a violent gasp

"W-what?"

"I'm shaving my head. And so are you. Right now," Blaine commanded.

"You're crazy!" Kurt replied, sliding off of the bed.

"Maybe…"

"Definitely!" confirmed Kurt.

Blaine made his way to the bathroom;

"Do you have one of those big electric razors?" he asked.

"Y-yeah, of course!"

Kurt could hear his insane boyfriend; hear him pilfering through the drawers, probably throwing everything out of order.

"Bottom left!"

After a few more noisy seconds, Blaine called;

"Oop, found it!"

He stepped out from around the corner, holding the razor high, an evil grin spreading across his face;

"So, who goes first?"


	8. Walk Ins Not Welcome

_This chapter is much more...lighthearted, I guess you could say. It's to help make up for all the sadness!_

_Hope you enjoy._

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Eight:<strong>

"Ow! What am I, a piece of meat? Stop trying to butcher me!" Blaine squealed, jerking away from the clippers, whose teeth were chattering, anticipating more hair.

"Oh, and you stop being such a baby!" replied Kurt as he placed a steadying hand on the other boy's shoulder. "It doesn't even hurt!"

Blaine fidgeted in his chair, knees bobbing up and down with nerves;

"That's because I was gentle with your precious scalp!" he spat. "Which looks fantastic, by the way!"

"Yeah, now I can go join the conehead club!" Kurt chuckled, rolling his eyes.

"At least you still have a head!"

The clippers' hum was hushed as Kurt finished, spinning Blaine around, so he could see the final product;

"Your lack of faith in me-is astounding," said Kurt.

Blaine gazed into the mirror, pupils blown. His mouth hung open, hand lingering above his smooth skull, almost like he was afraid to touch it;

"I-uh-it's…" he stuttered.

"Gone?" Kurt concluded.

"Y-yeah."

"Kinda sucks, doesn't it?" Kurt asked as he leaned to give Blaine a kiss on his flushed cheek. "But _you've never looked more beautiful_."

"_Ha-ha_, very funny."

Blaine shoved passed his boyfriend, examining himself more closely.

"It's…sort of…shiny!" he exclaimed. "Right? Can you see yourself in it, Kurt?"

"Oh, my God. I'm in love with a 4 year-old."

They giggled as they exited the bathroom, but their joy was cut short when Kurt stumbled, nearly connecting with the hard floor.

"Whoa, been walking long?" Blaine joked, grasping Kurt's thinning waist.

"Right. Yeah. No, I'm fine."

"You sure about that?" he questioned as he guided Kurt to the bed.

"Yes, I'm sure."

Kurt was shaking, and Blaine could tell he was doing everything in his power to hide it;

"I t-told you to s-stop staring at me l-like that," Kurt ordered, finding it difficult to force the words from his trembling lips.

"Just tell me what's wrong," pleaded Blaine, holding Kurt's convulsing body.

"W-we," he started, "look ridiculous!"

Blaine realized that Kurt wasn't crying, but rather, he was doubled-over in a fit of laughter;

"You jerk! I thought there was something wrong!"

"There is! The shape of your h-head!" Kurt hollered as he fell back onto his pillow.

"You're sick, but that doesn't mean you can be an ass!" Blaine replied, sticking out his tongue.

* * *

><p>Kurt traced the dips in Blaine's neck with his fingers, as if memorizing the mapping of each feature;<p>

"You know, Prom's about a month from now."

"That it is," said Blaine, turning over to face Kurt, whose eyes seemed to be encircled by even deeper blues and purples.

"D-do you think I'll make it?"

"Of course; not a doubt in my mind."

"Good," Kurt sighed. "Good."

* * *

><p>"Um. Oh, Jesus. Ah-uh. Sorry, guys. I didn't meant to walk in on-yeah, I'm just…I'm gonna-gonna go."<p>

The incessant babbling belong to a flustered Finn; who had, of course, hurried down the steps, only to find Kurt and Blaine asleep…together.

"W-what?" Kurt mumbled, sitting up quick enough to see his step-brother dart for the door. "Wait, Finn! Nothing happened!"

"It's cool, man. Whatever! I was coming to tell you it's time for school, if you feel like going. I mean, obviously, you felt like doing some_one," _he whispered, but Kurt still caught it.

"Excuse me? Did you not notice how I spent half of yesterday hanging over the toilet bowl? I hardly think I would be in any condition to fuck Blaine!"

At that, Blaine shot awake, and Finn fled; ears plugged and feet quick.

"Ahem…" Blaine coughed. "You rang?"

"Sorry, Finn walked in on us…again," replied Kurt, reaching to ruffle his own hair, but soon remembering that it was no longer there.

Blaine yawned and pulled the covers close to his chin;

"I'd expect him to be used to that by now…"

"Well, it appears he's more shocked every time," Kurt chuckled, yanking the comforter off both of them.

"The hell are you doing?" Blaine gasped as he curled in to a shivering ball.

"We're going to school."

"But I thought you didn't wanna! Wouldn't you'd rather stay here, all nice and warm?"

Kurt stood and urged Blaine to do the same;

"Nope. I'm tired of being stuck behind these four walls. C'mon, get up!"

"Sweeeeetheaaaart," Blaine moaned, still not budging.

"Don't 'sweetheart' me. I'm the one with cancer, and I'm moving faster than you are. Let's go!"

Practically running to his closet, Kurt selected his least flamboyant outfit and threw it towards the lazy boy that was still lingering at the edge of the bed.

"I really don't like you," huffed Blaine as he slipped on the red & black plaid shirt.

"Lies and slander!" Kurt shouted, a broad smile forming. "We'll wear hats, okay? Choose whichever."

Blaine did as he was told and ended up picking a black fedora.

"Aren't you handsome?" said Kurt, taking Blaine's hand.

"I try, I try."

"You want breakfast?"

"What is it?" Blaine asked.

"French toast, I think."

Kurt could feel Blaine become tense;

"I'm fine, thanks," he replied.

"Thought so," Kurt breathed. "If we hurry, we could get some coffee, to go?"

"Sounds great!"

* * *

><p>"Hi, dad! Bye, dad!" Kurt called as he passed his father on the way to the front door.<p>

"Hey, hold on! Where are you g-I didn't know Blaine stayed the night…and that you two shaved your heads! Kurt, wha-"

"I'll explain everything when I get home; gonna be late for school! Bye!"

Burt was left speechless and confused; his son, who was supposed to be dreadfully weak, just ran from his room…bald…with Blaine…and declared that he was going to school.

"Carole, I-"

"Don't worry about it, honey," she soothed. "He'll be just fine."


End file.
